Why I Trained as a Forest Bathing Guide

Carpenters Wood, Croxley Green

Call of the Forest

Gillian in the forest

I’ve been a gardener for over 20 years, planting to attract life: flowers for pollinators, shrubs for insects, and hedgerows for birds.

In 2020, I felt called to plant trees. I planted 60 and sponsored 40 more through the Heart of England Forest. Around the same time, a nearby farmer handed me Finding the Mother Tree - a powerful book that deepened my love of trees. That gift, along with my reading on Shinrin-Yoku, Forest Bathing sparked something in me.

The Challenge of a Screen-Based World

Professionally, I’ve spent over a decade engaging with colleagues and communities, encouraging a greater appreciation of our amazing planet. But the world has changed. Since the pandemic, our lives have become even more screen-based - phones, laptops, televisions. It’s no secret that these devices are designed to be addictive. I’ve noticed that the more time people spend on screens, the more disconnected they seem to become from the natural world around them.

And it’s not just a hunch. Mental health statistics are stark. The World Health Organisation has called stress the health epidemic of the 21st century while rates of anxiety, burnout, and loneliness continue to rise. Studies increasingly show that nature connection, even small doses, can help buffer these effects, improving mood, reducing cortisol and fostering calm.

That’s why I decided to train as a Forest Bathing guide. It felt like the next step in my nature-led journey and a meaningful way to offer something restorative to others.

The spirals of a romanesco plant

Into the woods

In July, I guided ten people through their first forest bathing experiences. None of them expected how powerful it would feel. They left more relaxed, grounded, and appreciative of the nature around them. One participant was so captivated by the trees she wandered off, missing the spot where we’d stopped to sit. Another said her asthma felt less noticeable - a surprising and beautiful piece of feedback.

Since then, I’ve been exploring woodlands across Hertfordshire and beyond: Croxleyhall, Whippendell, Burnham Beeches, Carpenters, Hodds, Philipshill, Oxhey and Highgate. At first glance many of these woods seem similar, but step inside and each has its own rhythm, character, and presence.

I’m especially drawn to Ancient and Semi-Ancient Woodlands. Many have been continuously wooded since at least 1600 and hold something special for me - the Japanese call it Yūgen: a mysterious, deeply felt beauty. They remind me there is more to life than we can see or explain. In these woods, I often feel quiet awe for their beauty, variety and all they’ve witnessed across centuries.

Time of day and weather also transform each woodland. The same path at dawn feels entirely different at dusk, in rain, or when sunlight filters through mist. I’ll be writing more about these woods in future blogs - how they feel, what they teach, and how they continue to shape my journey.

One final thing

Pinecones! I keep finding them - almost as if they’re little markers or reminders. For years, I’ve felt inexplicably happy when looking at Romanesco (a vegetable with intricate spirals). Now I know why. During my Forest Bathing training, I learned about fractals - naturally repeating patterns found in pinecones, shells, leaves, and more. These patterns, as it turns out, have a calming effect on our brains.

First described by mathematician Benoît Mandelbrot in 1975, fractals are self-similar patterns that repeat at different scales. Studies show that simply looking at them can reduce stress and promote relaxation. They help quiet the frontal cortex, boost alpha brainwaves, and bring about a meditative state. That’s why I’ve included a fractal in my logo and woven it into my forest bathing sessions - another example of nature’s own gentle therapy.

Becoming a Forest Bathing guide is just the beginning of this new path for me - one that reconnects people to the healing power of trees and reminds us that we are nature, not separate from it.